Every evening the clouds gather. I read in the newspaper today the question on people’s minds is, Is this the monsoons? No, the meterologists say, the monsoons don’t come until July. The weather is cooler, cooler than average. This is the fourth wettest May in Albuquerque since 1913, I read yesterday.

I’m living in the new house. It was such a drawn out move. I had time to mourn our little house, then get tired of it, then finally almost hate the sight of it. Now I walk out on the patio and see the Sandias. Before I moved to this place I couldn’t see the mountains for the trees. It’s louder where I live now. I hear the city, the sirens that make all the dogs in the vicinity howl. The trucks that shift into low gear as they climb the hill. I wonder what this place was like before any big boulevards were even there. I wonder if the original family moved when civilization encroached.

I should put links in this piece, but I know I won’t. What to link? I’m writing it almost like a practice anyway. I’m starved for writing. We don’t have internet connectivity yet at the new place, so I have to come to cafes to get connected. For the past four days, you can find me parked outside a cafe with my computer screen glowing pale green in my face. I must look ghoulish to anyone walking past the car. But most times I’ve wanted to connect, it’s been late. Bands playing in the cafes, lots of people. It’s quiet in my car, and besides, I’ll be back online Tuesday.

Right now the sky is pretty clear. I have a feeling it’s not going to rain tonight. I have a feeling the clouds won’t even gather as much as they have been. Maybe they’ve been called to a convention in Amarillo. Who knows. What do clouds do when they’re not hanging out around here?